The Path Not Often Traveled
by Regenald
Summary: The tale of a single man, his quest, and his journey to become a hero.
1. Ryudo Seeks

**Note**: Yes, the characters in this story correlate to those in the original Grandia II video game, produced by Game Arts. No, this does not have any basis on the Grandia II story line. Do not flame me, or email me telling me things that have to DO with the Grandia II story line. While reading, throw out everything you know and remember from the game, other then the characters and their personalities.

**The Path Not Often Traveled **

  
Against the dusty trail he plodded along that fall day. The leaves beneath his feet can be distinctly heard breaking, and crunching against the cobblestone road. Above his head, the ever-dying heat from the sun can be felt all around, enough to calm the chill normally felt in the morning air. Up the road, the sound of horse hooves hitting the loose rock ground, echo in the air. A quaint village in the distant, smoke rising from the chimneys of the houses, the hustle and bustle of daily life seeming so close, yet so far away. The figure stops, placing his small bag onto the ground, it's burlap cover folding upon itself as it touches down. He lifts his hat and mops his brow with a red and white checker handkerchief from his coat pocket. He stands modest height, not any taller or shorter then your average colonist. He wears a dark, faded green jacket, and woven cloths pants, bunched around his shin, connected to a pair of socks, and leading to his black clog shoes. Upon his head rests a small brown, triangular shaped hat, much like that of a British warrior. The gold buttons embroidering his jacket glimmer slightly in the sun, giving his presence a rather dignified appearances. The road he walks upon is lined with brown and white field stone, at it's side, rows of Cyprus trees, and in the distances, Hinton, land of destiny, city of fable.   
He walks to the gate, stopping briefly, tipping his hat to either guard standing beside the town's entrance. Each gestures back accordingly, and steps-aside. He moves forward again, toteing his bag at his side. Threw the the streets he walks, quickly, only momentarily slowing to greet a passer-by. The city is that out of a legend, and in it's own right, is one. Old English in style, it's streets are lined with houses, shops, businesses of every kind. The brown brick facade lead easily on the eye, as do the views into each abode from the street. The buildings are tall, two-three stories each. The single carriage wide streets make the journey through each section claustrophobic. People are everywhere, saying this, buying that. As he walks, faster still, his voyage leads him into the second section of town. The market.   
Vender lined streets, goods displayed proudly in every crevice and nook the dealer can feasibly place them. Each display lends itself to another facet of the enclosed economy of the city. The small cart like enclosure, covered by a multicolored tarp sell everything possibly needed to sustain life as a whole. Our voyager finally comes to a stop, deep within the market. He places his sack onto the ground, and straightens his clothing. The destination he has reached seems to be the only fortified structure in the market section. A small brown adobe hut, windows created by hole cut into the clay face of the building. The reddish-brown appearance of clay lends itself well to the surrounding chaos. He taps once at the door, which opens promptly. A hand, pale, and aged reaches and pulls him inside.   
He blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light in the room, even with the make-shift windows, and candle lit entrance. Looking around the room, he takes note of it's contents. A brown wooden table in the far left corner, 2 green throw-covered chairs in either right corner, and candle stand between them. An almost arrogant floor rug, depicting a whimsical array of colors, covers most of the floor. The figure, old in appearances stands in front of him. Covered entirely in a black cloak, the only noticeable features are the the hunched over posture, and the worn hand holding the cloak together across it's chest.   
"So, Ryudo, what has brought you here this time?"  
The figures voice is rasp, and crude. It's speech is broken, but distinctly feminine. Ryudo sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and walking to one of the chairs in the corner, the one closest to the entrance, and sitting down. He takes a small letter from his pocket, pale white in color, covered in a black manuscript.  
"I'm here to seek your guidance. I received this." He outstretches his hand to her, the letter in his grip. She takes the letter and opens it, glancing over it with unseen eyes. Nodding, she hands it back. "What does it mean? Four worlds? Righteousness?"   
She turns her back to him, and sighs. "Yes... Four worlds. My ... age, inhibits me from retelling you the story behind this myth, so here..." She walks to a bookshelf, hidden behind the door. Pulling a red leather covered book from the shelf, she dusts the cover off with her frail hand, and slowly drags herself along, toward him. Placing it in his hands, Ryudo flips threw the first few pages, and nods. "This book... you have in your possession-" She coughs, and pulls the cloak tighter around her, "Shall tell you everything you wish to know, about the four worlds."  
"Would you mind..? If I were to read this now? I wouldn't be intruding, would I?"  
"Of course not, child... Of course not."


	2. The Story Unveils

Against the barren expanse that day, lay a tome. Not strange in any way, physically. But the inside, yes, inside drew the power of all that exist around it. The epicenter of every beings energy dwell deep within the books core. Though, unknown at the time, this books very being was destined to ring in the downfall of all humanity. Many stories were formed as to how the book came to be, none of which can be held true. All that is known is that it exists, as does the grass upon the ground. 

Ten score years ago, a great emperor came to power. Lord Valmar, as his subjects were forced to say, sought to find this very book and delve into it's pages, seeking the very meaning behind it's position. As it was done. The book was recovered was a shallow crevice outside one of the four hamlets of Hinton. Lord Valmar brought it back, and researched it's contents for many a year.

A night, unlike any other at first glance, was to be the nights of many woes. Lord Valmar had succeeded in his quest, the books mysteries and information had been leeched from it's cryptic pages. As it came to be, three very distinct occurrences came from the unleashing of books 'power.'

First, was the deformation of the four hamlets. Each was brought to a single blade of grass, and fertile ground, as far as the eye could see. What was once there, could never be remembered. What never could be remembered, was lost into fable and myth. The lands upon which sat the mighty empire of Hinton, were lost into time.

Second, a race of people, different from each around them, were placed into one of the four hamlets. The Humans, the Elves, the Orcs, and the Shadows. As it was, each would be expected to create a different world in which to live, thus, four entirely different ways of life, unknown to each other. All essential knowledge and skills were granted to these people, along with the necessary provisions to last them through the coming year. Upon this basis, four very different lands were formed. The highly intelligent, tree dwelling Elves. The cunning and strong, stabile yet reckless Humans. The barbaric, but structured Orcs. The mysterious, ground dwelling Shadows.

Third, the book, and it's keeper, Lord Valmar, ceased to exist. Never seen again. Fable tells of a hero that will one day reunite the hamlets, and reform Hinton as it once stood. It speaks of a hero, so bold and daring, that no obstacle is to mighty for his ever longing heart. "In his true grasp that day, lay the Book of Time, his goal and aspiration, never falling from his selfless hand for an immortals eternity."


End file.
